


One with the night

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-22
Updated: 2004-03-22
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder follows Alex into the world beyond.





	One with the night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

One with the night

### One with the night

#### by laurel

  


Notes: Resurrected from its beginnings as a contest entry on an erotic theme (it didn't win) and turned into an x-file fic with only minor changes. 

Told from Mulder's POV. 

Warning: This is a vampire tale, so if blood squicks you, you have been warned. 

I was drawn to this place again and again. I was a fragile, suicidal moth as to a flame, the magnet to immovable steel. 

He lived, if that is the word, in perpetual darkness, moving between shadows, coming alive in the hours of dusk, when everything was colored as though filtered through stained glass, in distorting deep hues of purple and wine and charcoal. 

His smile showed his teeth, the only bright spot in the dim mausoleum. I counted them, watched the fangs grow minutely. He was naked, his skin smudged with graveyard dirt. His genitals hung like dark, decaying fruit, not the inflamed, moist loins of a potent, living male, impatient to plant his seed. 

His eyes glowed in the gloom. They were the stare of a wild animal, controlled but never tamed. Some things about my Alex never change. 

He advanced on me, his tongue curled thoughtfully between his pale lips, caressing the sharp teeth growing in his mouth. His legs and arms were pale and thin but corded with muscle and along with the trunk of his body, they glowed with a luminous light. 

That was strange since there was no light source. It was full night and the only light came from the moon, which was hidden in the mist of clouds, and the cold twinkle of stars. My flashlight beamed uncertainly in the gloom, like the ghostly light at the end of long tunnels. 

He smiled and crooked one finger. It was long and thin and bony. His hand was a living candelabra and the ends of his fingers glowed like candle flame. 

As if on a string he drew me forward and my feet moved of their own volition. My brain had ceased to think. Only the pulse of my blood was alive, the squeezing chambers of my heart still beating that faithful organ. 

Blood called to blood. 

He was moments away now. My breath was visible in the air, little puffs like white clouds shimmered in the dark then dispersed. He waved his hand, gesturing for me to undress. I obeyed mindlessly. 

My pulse quickened and my muscles tightened at the excitement humming through my body. He smiled and crooked his head. 

I was naked before him, standing still for his contemplation. My flesh heaved within the shell of skin which prickled in the cold air. The flashlight I'd dropped on the floor lit me up like a spotlight. 

He knelt down and licked his lips. He pulled my leg towards his mouth, his spindly fingers cool on my skin. It rippled under his touch. I could smell myself in the musty air, the scent of sex, of musk, of the sweat that beaded my skin. His breath was cold against my thigh. It was just an exhalation of desire. He had no need of oxygen. 

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of his touch. He licked at my thigh, gauging my reaction in the tiny whimper, the shiver of muscles contracting. I could sense his laugh, at once delighted and wicked, and he snaked his tongue into the sensitive inner juncture of my thigh. It was cold and biting as metal. Goose flesh erupted on my legs, sending the light brown hairs snapping to attention. 

He picked the soft, plump flesh, the most vulnerable area for the last bite. When he sank his fangs in deeply, the pain was overwhelming, the feeling making my knees buckle. The muscles jumped and shook as I tried to stand still. The release of blood was plentiful and he drank it in greedily. I opened my eyes as my pain turned into exquisite pleasure. His lips turned deep red as he drank. His pale skin flushed and he glowed brighter. The whites of his eyes acquired a deep red glow. 

There was a sudden gush of fluid down my leg and my body shook in the throes of orgasm. My cock sprayed a milky stream into the air even though he hadn't even put a finger on its length. I gave a loud cry and only his surprisingly strong hands kept me upright. 

As he continued to drain me, I grew weaker, less concerned with the world around me and eager to find him again in the next. In a little while I would be a heap of bones and skin and muscle, inert, piled into the corner, until the need for blood would call me awake and I would become one with the night. 

And he'd be waiting for me, as always, in the shadows.   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to laurel


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